When Empires Crumble
by WelcomeT0TheRealWorld
Summary: This story follows the Life of one Nathan Goren, a man from a time before as he goes from Hell on Elysium to the site of the first Battle against the Reapers. Will he survive to see the catalyst, or will he become just another name on a monument to the fallen. An OC insert. Rated T just to be safe
1. Chapter 1

**_CH::1. A DAMN NEAR PERFECT LIFE_**

Hello all! My name is Nathan Goren. I'm a single human male, born In Atlanta, Georgia on Earth. My hobbies include long walks on the beach, and hunting. I'm currently employed as a member of the Alliance Special forces, oh and I'm a Time Traveler.

No, that last bit is not a mistake. And I suppose "Time Traveler" is an exaggeration of my current life. You see, I'm in fact human with nothing genetically special about me, beside the fact I have memories of the 21st and first year of the 22nd century. Annnd memories of my "current" childhood. Still confused? Ok, think about it like this. I was alive in the 21st century, but reincarnated into the early 22rd with all my memories from before.

Needless to say, I was a smart child (seeing as I'd gone through all of it before). I graduated High school with a 4.0 GPA, never smoked, drank, or did any kind of illegal drugs (ie: crack heroine). Later in life also enrolled into an Ivy League college and left with a masters degree in Xenoscience. Hell, I even had a steady relationship with a classmate. You could say my life was perfect. That is, until my friends talked me into going on a Celebratory Vacation on Elysium…

May 25th, 2176

 **Illyria, Elysium**

Club::Rising Sun

"Cheers, To the class of 2176," the blonde-haired man named Mike, yelled from the head of the table, his mug of Alcohol high above his head.

"Cheers," the three of us chorused, following him in raising our drinks (in my case, soda). We then collectively chugged the liquids. A satisfied sigh escaped our lips, Mike and George burping after the sudden intake of beer.

We had arrived shortly in the morning, and spent a day walking around the city, gazing slack jawed at the beauty of the world…. And all the damn Turians. We then, checked into our hotel and ran to this back-alley bar down the street. As far as bars went, the place was decent. It had a karaoke floor (something Mike had taken full advantage of) a wrap-around bar in the middle of the room and I noticed all the waitresses were rather eye catching, much to Sophia's annoyance. The day had been perfect, and tomorrow was going to be even better, what with the Day Passes for the Galactic World theme park.

' _I should probably do it after the Star Crusher_ ' I think to myself, ' _She'll love the ring_ ' I grope the velvet box in my pocket while the others talk animatedly around me. ' _I wonder if-_ 'a whistling noise interrupts my thoughts. And it seems, being the socially awkward guy not in the conversation about unmasked Quarians **,** I'm the only one to hear it. I interrupt the guys, to their annoyance.

"Do you guys hear that whistling,"

"What are you talking about dude," Mike asks, giving me his trademarked lopsided grin. "Your hearings going out dude,"

"I'm being serious. Listen, it's getting louder," I urgently inform them. Their expressions change to confusion.

"Nate, babe maybe you should-, "whatever Sophia was about to say is interrupted, as a white brick (later I learn it's a Kodiak) smashes through the wall next to the entrance, sending masonry the size of small boulders flying freely around the bar. And as luck would have it, right into my face, knocking me unconscious nearly instantly.

"Don't do it, please I'm beg- "BANG, interrupts whatever Mike was pleading for. My head aches like no one's business and my eyes were thankfully swollen shut, so that I didn't have to see the face of my now deceased friend. Despite my like of sight, I could still, obviously, hear. I could hear Sophia sob as they slapped a collar on her neck. I could hear gunshots, shortly followed by Georges scream of pain. Oh, and I could feel shit to, like my inability to get up and help my girlfriend. And the bone crunching kick that my assaulter sent to my side. Spite is all that kept me from giving away the fact I was alive.

Now tell me, when have you felt the most powerless? When your parents died? When you failed to stop that one bad thing from happening? Well, I have a lifetime and a quarter of memories of these. And the one that topped them all, was the sound of that Kodiak taking off with my girlfriend and near perfect life as well.

"Lieutenant, this one's breathing," a flanged voice calls, bringing out of the bleak darkness. I try to blink open my eyes, but stop when

"Damn, he looks like shit," a humany sounding voice came from nearby, followed by the crunching of debris as he got closer.

"Well, you know what they say," my voice, scratchy and dry from hours of disuse and lack of hydration responds. "Looks like shit, feels like shit…,"

I let out a hiss and grimace in pain as the guy moving the debris drops the heavy ass rock onto my knee.

"Sanders, calm your shit and get that boulder off him," a more commanding female voice calls out to the knee cruncher. A few footsteps later, and the leader sounds to be in front of me, probing my face with an armored finger. "Mind telling me what happened here," she asks politely, lifting an eyelid and shining a light into it.

"To be quite honest I'm not sure," I gasp out as my right arm comes free from the rubble. "It all happened so fast, one moment me and my friends were partying, then something breaks through the wall and knocks me unconscious, in fact last thing I remember was my friends dying and my girl- "a lump forms in my throat at the memory. After opening my eyes fully, and rubbing them with the arm that can move without intense pain (lefty seems to be out of socket) the woman stands back up to her full height and pulls me up with her.

"If it's too much don't worry about it," she says, giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze. I nod in gratitude and walk over to Mikes body, blood still pooling beside him. His eyes glazed in shock and fly's fleeing his mouth. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I bend down and close his eyes. Mike was the first friend I ever made after High school, and alongside George and Sophia, was the only one that seemed to not drift away.

 _"_ _Nate, seriously, fuck the other guys. If they're too dumb to see how much of an awesome dude you are, then they need to find the Clorox," Mike had said with that annoying ass grin locked on his face._

"Resto in paradiso, mio fratello," I whisper to him and wipe the traitorous tear. _' Why'_ I ask myself. _'Why does the universe rip away everything away again.'_ A scene flashes through my mind of a time long ago, in another life. _We Had just gotten into the barracks. James had uncorked his hidden stash of wine and me and the rest of the 25_ _th_ _were getting ready to celebrate the end to a near century long conflict. The last major Terrorist cell in the middle east had been crushed. And we all had tickets home._ _The liquor and merriment all ended when the barracks door slammed closed. All eyes turned to face who the newcomer was. And many jumped or hid when they saw the weathered face of General Shepard, and he looked pissed._

"Captain Goren," he shouts out my name, sending a shiver down my spine and causing an internal torment of tears. "I do hope that that's not a bottle of 1999 Merlot I smell,"

"Shhhiiit," is the collective moan. But my interest is peaked when his murderous glare is changed to a slightly humorous look, you can tell because his left eyebrow is raised half a millimeter and his lips a straight line. _'Oh I see what's going on_ ,'

"And if it is sir," I respond with a smirk. And my teammates look flabber ghasted at the statement. And my assumption shoots true. The Generals face, for the first time in known history, mesomorphs into the shit eating grin of a kid in a candy store. "Why captain, I'd be forced to grab a cup and fill it with said wine and test its authenticity." _What follows is an hour of partying and was about to end on a high note._ "Three cheers to the best damn soldiers on this side of the Atlantic," the generals face now a shade or two pinker calls out to the 50 or so soldiers in the room. "A woot to the best damn Captain in the entire world," the slurred words of my, soon to be, former 2nd in command rush out from his mouth. "Woot," "Cheer-," _A sudden tremor rattles the building, interrupting the party. And then the truck comes flying into the wall and immediately explodes. It was a last-ditch assault on our position. Of the 200-people stationed at the base, 36 survived, myself included. And the only reason I survived, was because Tom (AKA former 2_ _nd_ _) had tackled and lay on top of me. I walked away with minor burns and a few scratches. Tom was buried with no arms, one leg, and half his face melted._ _'_ _Every fucking time, why,'_ Tom's face, before and after blend with that of Mikes. Something inside me snaps. I clench my fist in anger, my knuckles popping as I do so. _'If the fucking universe want's an encore, then so be it.'_ I stand to my full height, rolling my right shoulder back, and hiding the pain I felt emotionally and physically, a cold, steely state encased me. In my old life, I called this my Soldier mode.

"Mam," I address the woman, whom at this point had been standing behind me, weapons at rest (along with the Turian and Human that dug me out), watching me mourn for the past couple minutes, jumped at the sound of my emotionless voice. "Permission to travel with you and your team to assist in completing your objective," I request, turning to face her, mentally cringing at the shot of pain that lanced from my injured leg. _'Damn it, dipshit McGee did something to my kneecap'_

"Permission denied," she responds, a frown settling on her feature, "You need a hospital more than anything. Besides, and no offense, but I doubt your luck would last five seconds out in enemy fire," she says. "Private Sanders, escort him to that clinic three blocks down and rendezvous with us at the Rally point,"

"Aye aye mam," he salutes and starts towards me. He freezes in place as I successfully pop the offending injury back into place and crack my neck.

"Mam, I must insist. Whoever those dickwads were stole the last important thing left to me in the world. I'd hope you would realize that I won't stay in any hospital, not if she's still out there and these cunts are still breathing. Nothing is going to stop me from getting her. And if she's dead, then the ground will be flooded with their cries of agony," I calmly inform in that same emotionless voice, my anger- no my pure, unadulterated fury leaking its way into my voice.

We end up staring at each other, she and I, for what feels like an eternity. Until finally she grabs the Predator pistol at her side to her side and tosses it to me. Jacob shoots the Turian an inquisitive glance, the Turian responds with a shrug.

"We don't have a spare kinetic barrier with us, and I doubt that's armor, so if I say get, you get down. Kapeesh?" She gives no indication of noticing that I both caught the pistol and managed to unfold it as well, all in one movement might I add.

"As you say mam," I respond neutrally, my mask still in place.

"You keep saying mam, and I'll kick your ass. The Names Shepard," she closes the distance, her hand shooting a hand out for me to shake.

I hide my shock at the name well, though it nearly caused me to drop my jaw. _'The old bastard's Grand-Kid huh? This should be fun,'_ A wolfish grin envelopes my face, the wall crumbling slightly.

"And to you, Shepard, you can call me Nate, or Nathan if you prefer," I take her hand shake it firmly.

"Alright, squad we're moving out. I'll take point, Jacobs cover right, Ald, you're on left. Nate, you're on six," Shepard's face transforms into one I know all too well from previous experience. Wordlessly, the three of us comply immediately and begin our march, the pain from my leg numbed by now. A steal a glance at the corpse of George, his leather jacket had three holes torn into it, his face like that of Mike. I close my eyes and shake my head to clear the sadness threatening to break the dam.

 _'_ _Mike, George, I'll make them pay, I swear it,'_

I jog forward, catching up with the other three, and we silently carry onwards our march through the city. The sound of faraway gunshot the only thing breaching the somber atmosphere.

 **2 HOURS LATER**

"I'm hit," the gasp comes from Sanders, as he falls on his back, desperately trying to halt the flow of blood that leaked out the hole in is gut.

"Nate, get to him I'll cover you," Shepard yells, leaning out from behind the alleyway she was using a s cover and sending a volley of bullets towards the pirates camping out in the hotel in front of us. We'd been walking in relative peace, until, after turning a corner by a Clothing shop, the Turian, Ald, was took fire, enough of it tow were it overloaded his barrier and he dropped dead. We all blindly ran to cover, me a street post, Shepard in a doorway, and Jacob behind a crashed aircar. Thankfully, the Batarians (as I noticed from the four eyes) apparently weren't provided shields, unfortunately, they had numbers on their side.

I make a mad dash from behind my cover,pistol fireing blindly in the directon of the pirates. _'Focus Nate,'_ I swerve left to right as bullets whiz by my ear, I slide the last five meters forward and slam my good knee into the side of the flaming air car, and cringe at the pop my knee makes. Hurriedly, I crouch low, flinching when a bullet whizzes by my head, and move speedily to Sanders.

"I'm- I'm not going to make it," he wheezes out, laying his head against the car, his hand still pressing hopelessly against the offending wound. I wanted to tell him he'd be alright, hell I'd do anything to get rid of that look in his eye. But I don't. If there's anything I've learned in my past life, it's that the worst thing to do, is lie to a dying man. Sanders digs his other hand under the collar of his armor, ripping a necklace off. He presses a button on the top and stares briefly at the picture within, before closing and slamming it into my hand.

"Find her, tell her- tell her I'm sorry," his breath begins to get more shallow as his skin pales significantly.

"I will," assure him, my hand clutching the necklace, he gives a brief nod, and slams his head against the vehicle again, hissing in pain as he removes his hand from his wound. With the now free hand, he grabs the last grenade on his belt, and as he hands it to me, his arm drops, the grenade rolling towards me as the last of his life leaves him.

Another corpse. Another sacrifice. Another reason to kill the sons of bitches. I grab the grenade and tuck it into my jackets pocket, then grab the discarded shotgun lying next to him. I pause briefly to close his eyes. I then turn to Shepard. "Cover me," I shout and stand before she can protest. Immediately, hostile munition comes flying my way. But as quickly as it had started, it quickly ended as Shepard sent a dual wielded salvo of fury from both her assault rifle and submachinegun.

With the enemy entrenched for the moment, I start charging forward, shotgun in one hand, grenade in the other. I make it five meters before Shepard overheats her guns, and the enemy starts to return fire. A bullet clips my right arm, but the pain only further enrages me, and I began to move faster.

I throw the grenade at the lobby doors, the grenade with its near perfect arc, soars straight into the ajar door and explodes **__-6/10-__**. I slow for naught and continue inwards, slamming through glass door, raising and shooting the shotgun immediately. A body lurches back as a red mist escaped him. ** __-5/10-__**

"FOCUS FIRE," a Batarian orders, but before he can follow through, Shepard's dual wielding fury returns, taking two of his comrades in the chest. Their bodies hitting the floor with a resounding thud. ** __-3/10-__** Immediately, my pistol rises, I snap the barrel to the commanders left and depress the trigger twice **__-2/10-__** then my aim turns to his right, the last of his "soldiers", or pirate assholes as I like to call them, falls to the floor, twitching and writhing from the hole in his throat ** __-1/10-__**. But it seems I paid too much attention to the meat-shields.

Phfoot, the commanders rifle barks. Various pricks with the strength of a needle are all I feel of the bullets punching into my chest. I look at the now gushing wounds that have caused my once white T-Shirt to become a mess of red stains, like that of wine on a white carpet. I frown at the offense these wounds have caused. _'The sheer audacity of this child-killing, woman-enslaving bastard,'_ rage absorbs my pain, transforming my face into that of a monster.

"what- what the fuck are you," he gasps, Mattock shuddering in his hands. I grin holstering my pistol in my belt, raising my shotgun with both arms this time (because the recoil was a bitch), blood spurting from my injured one, a splotch of it appears on his face, causing him to close his bottom right eye to avoid crimson blood dripping in.

"The avatar of Vengeance, bitch," and with that I unload the shotgun which, seeing as this was a Katana IV meant that a grand total of 4 shells burst into the Batarians. And I don't think I need to put the enemy count thingy to let you know he was dead.

I spin around, pistol at the ready as the broken doors screech open, but droop it downwards at Shepard's appearance. Her face was plastered with cuts, dirt, and sweat, her shoulder length orange hair frizzed to all hell, her emerald eyes that must of at one time held joy but now only express the ungodly sights she's seen this night alone. But her expression is what I stared at the longest.

She wasn't happy, sad, or scared. No, she looked shocked. But at what, all I had done was throw a frag and shoot a few bullets. She mouths something to me, another oddity, considering I have hearing and her a voice.

It wasn't till I started to faint from blood loss that I realized she was shocked that I was still standing considering I had twelve pulsing bullet holes pouring blood onto the once beautiful marble floor of the Hotel's lobby.

 ** _AN: Next couple chapters out next week, Till, Bye!_**


	2. BIO-001

**A/N: Ok so this chapter is going to be a little weird. Most of this is going to be me establishing what Nate looks like and a little backstory.**

* * *

 **So, without further ado, lets jump in.**

NAME:: Nathaniel Jackson Goren

DOB:: August 23rd, 2050

DOD:: January 1st, 2101

BRIEF SYNOPSIS::

Nathaniel Goren was born 08-23-50 to Maria and Jackson Goren. His father passing away two days prior to his birth, left Maria, age 26, to raise their son on her own in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia.

Nathan excelled in school, up till his mother was killed in a robbery attempt at his home during the 11th grade of High School. After that point, his attitude changed drastically, he began doing drugs and started skipping classes. It wasn't until a truancy officer caught up to him and took him under his wing that the young and only Goren started to transform back into the good kid he was before the tragedy.

After scraping through High school, Nathan enlisted into the United States Marines, and made it through basic with top marks with all firearms. He then proceeded to live through three tours in the middle east before retiring and deciding to live off the grid in the Alaskan Wilderness.

 **::THE FOLLOWING IS MARKED CLASSIFIED LEVEL 1::**

 **ANY UNAUTHORIZED VIEWING OR TAMPERING WILL RESULT IN**

 **IMMIDIATE INCARCERATION**

Sargent Goren, after a devastating attack upon a base he was stationed in, volunteered for the Arthur Project. After the completion of said project (which he left as the sole survivor) he become a special operative under the direct command of the Head of International Security, whom, after the nuclear attacks in Washington DC, London, Tokyo and Cairo, was left as the most powerful man or woman on planet earth.

 **Desc.**

 **HAIR::Short, Brown and usually swept back**

 **EYES PRE ARTHUR PROJECT:: Green-Hazel**

 **EYES POST** **ARTHUR** **PROJECT:: Light Blue w/ Bit o Green**

 **BUILD:: Athletic**

 **SPECIAL NOTE::**

 **::REDACTED::**

 **CLASSIFIED LEVEL 0**


	3. Chapter 3

My head hurt like shit again, and I can't for the life of me remember why. I shift my arms around, tentatively opening my eyes, praying to god I don't awake to see the pearly gates. Bright luminescent lights blind me, making me squint and try to bring a hand to my face to shield them from the light, only to have said arm painfully tugged back down to my side.

The scraping of a chair against the floor made my head quickly turn right, but my eyes were still unadjusted and I could only make out that a woman was now standing next to my bed.

"Sophia?" I groggily croak

"Nate, just lay still, you took one hell of a beating," the figure coos. But the voice wasn't Sophia's and the pain meds I'm on must be clouding my memory somewhat, cause the voice was familiar, but I just can't remember from where.

"What happened? Where am I?"

"You're at the Illyarian Central Hospital, I had to drag you here after you got hurt during a firefight,"

I faintly see another figure enter the room, _gasp,_ and drop what I assume to be a datapad.

"How is he awake, he should be out for another twelve hours," the figure sounds astonished, and only moves when the woman next to me goes and pushes him in further.

"Then knock him back out, I doubt he's feeling good right now." The woman orders.

Shepard.

Her name is Shepard.

The memories of what had happened earlier rushed to the forefront of my mind. Us getting off the shuttle, the cheers at the bar, the wall crashing inward, Mike and George's death's, Sophia getting kidnap-

I shoot straight up, and tear the medical tubing out of my arm, all dreariness from before leaving me. Shepard's hand is on my chest and she's yelling for the doctor to do something already.

"Shepard. Let. Go," I growl moving her arm myself. The doctor starts walking towards me with a needle in hand. "And I suggest you stay away with that, doc," the menace in my tone made him take a step back.

"Nathan stand down, you are in no shape to do anything except lay there and recover," her hand goes back to my chest but her attempts to push me back down are met with my unmoving body.

"Shepard, she's still out there. And I won't leave her with those bastards any longer than I have to," her eyes lock with mine and we proceed to have a staring contest, a continuation from the one at the club. And like the one from the club, she caves.

"Doctor, notify security to stand down, he's coming with me," she gives me a nod, to which I reply with the same.

"lieutenant, I must insist that he stays, his wounds are- "

"-superficial. You said the surgery was a success and he'd be able to get back out there when he got up,"

"he was supposed to get up in 12 hours, not 15 minutes afterwards, and even then, the chances of his wounds reopening or, god forbid, getting infected are astronomical," the doctor began moving towards me again with what I think to be a sedative, but Shepard beats me to the punch.

"As the highest ranking official currently in the area, I am hereby commanding you to cease further attempts to impede myself or those under my command. Am I understood," she was up in his face at this point.

"Ye- yes mam, right away mam," the man then backs away, and after a last glance, leaves the room entirely.

Puss.

Shepard turns towards a cabinet in the corner, opens it, and proceeds to rummage through the assorted items in it.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at the bruised, cut, and battered state they're in. _'Here goes'_ I hop off the edge, grunting when my legs light up like pins and needles, and proceed to stretch my sore arms, noticing that the right one was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. And my torso felt like it had been steamrolled by an airbus.

Regardless, I stand tall and push the pain and discomfort to the back of my mind, and proceed to take off the white hospital gown I was in, leaving myself standing in the center of the room in nothing but my boxers.

And damn did it feel cold.

Apparently finding what she was looking for, Shepard turns back to me with a bundle of clothes. Of which consisted of my brown leather jacket (in addition to a dozen plus bullet holes), a new T-Shirt, and my now torn blue jeans.

"Here, catch," Shepard throws said items, me fumbling slightly in my current state barely catch them. _'Wait, where is the rest.'_ The box with my proposal ring was gone, along with the necklace that Sanders had entrusted me with. Seemingly reading my mind, Shepard goes over to a small strong box in the corner, and proceeds to open it and bring it over to me.

Inside lay the aforementioned items. I release a sigh and take the box from Shepard's hands.

"Get dressed and meet me outside, I'll walk you to the armory and get you suited up," my grunt is the only reply she gets before she walks out. The door closing and leaving me in the white room, with a window that has the perfect view of the burning city outside. My steps unknowingly lead me to the window.

I clutch my fists in anger.

She was out there, somewhere in the midst of the flaming city. Or maybe she was in one of the hovering pirate ships. It didn't matter.

They couldn't hold for much longer. I will find her. And those bastards are going to bleed for taking her.

"I'm coming Sophie, just hang in there."

 **15 MINUTES LATER**

I step into the hallway, as spiffed up as a man who was nearly dead can be, and right into the overcrowded hallway of the hospital. It seems the building had run out of rooms to house the hundreds of patients and had started to just put them anywhere there was room.

Men, Women, Children. All of them had cuts or bruises. Some had missing limbs, others you couldn't even tell what race they were.

As I stroll down the hall, towards the floors main elevator (where an aid told me Shepard was waiting) I barely hold back from hurling what little my stomach might have in it.

I mean I saw some messed up shit over in the Middle East, during WWIII. But the intermingled stench of human and alien BO, Urine, and other bodily fluids made the mere thought of breathing a bad idea.

The nurses had the right idea with the face masks.

Choking down bile at the thought of the smell, I push open the doors that let me out of the ICU, and into the organized chaos of the lobby. Doctors were running everywhere, aids trailing close behind with carts of medicine and other doctorly utensils.

I see Shepard to the right by the elevator, fidgeting with her Omni-Tool, looking frustrated with it. Eventually she growls and closes it.

"Something up," I ask as I stroll up beside her,

"Can't get a signal out, seems we're being jammed," she punches the call button.

"How long till the Alliance figures it out and sends reinforcements," the elevator door dings open, the two of us stepping after stretcher and its attendants ran out.

"Considering the nearest fleet is at least a couple jumps away, and it's been a few hours since we went quiet… Five hours give or take,"

"Oh good, a couple hundred versus a couple thousand, for five hours," the elevator chimed as we reached the bottom floor.

A grim nod in response to my comment, and Shepard is out the door, not even glancing to see if I'd follow her.

If the ICU was chaos, then this so called "armory" (aka the ground lobby) was Fucking Chaos. Soldiers hurried about, injured, and non-injured alike, carrying guns and carting ammunition to what appeared to be a barricade outside the main floors doors. Gunfire permeates the room as nearby shots are exchanged by the mentioned barricade.

"Private! The hell's going on," Shepard grabs a young faced man, probably only 19 or 20 years old as he hurries past, struggling with two unfurled assault rifles and a bandaged leg.

"The squints are assaulting again, and the sarge thinks he saw a toad or two in the mix," he replies quickly. "I have to get these to the front line, mam, excuse me." And off he goes again, barely managing to avoid a trip or two on the way.

Wait, by toads did he mean-

"Shit! Krogan!" a voice yells from down the way, finishing my inner though.

Shepard takes off towards the barricade, leaving me, to scramble to find a kinetic harness and gun (I just took them off an unconscious guy on the ground).

As the invisible field envelopes, me, I unfold the pistol I snagged. Just a basic Kessler pistol, nothing special. But it'll kill I guess.

I start sprinting past the soldiers fleeing, wounded and unwounded alike, pushing some away, ignoring my own pain as my legs flared up.

"If you're not heading towards fire, clear out pussies," a cop ahead of the crowd shouts out. It worked somewhat, and the last twenty feet are clear of people.

The wall next to us explodes into a mess of debris and sends almost everyone in the immediate area flying backwards. Myself and Shepard Included.

I hit the wall on the far end of the room, and hear Shepard and a few others slam against it as well.

With a grunt and a mighty effort, I stand, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun poking through the dusty air. A deep bloodcurdling chuckle emanates from a dark shadow in the smog.

"It seems boys, we got a lively one here," the unmistakable rumble of a Krogan voice sends a chill down my spine, and, for a moment, all gunfire stops. "Alright you pussies, throw your guns on the floor and you'll be taken lightly," he continues stepping through the dust, flanked on both sides by dozens of Batarians who filed into the room, knocking anyone who was standing or conscious to the ground.

The red lizard glanced around the room, before his orange predatory eyes lock to mine.

"You deaf, pyjak," he growls, taking a step towards me. I raise the pistol, aiming for in between his eyes- wait where have I seen the necklace around his gun? Wrapped around the stock of the lizard's shotgun, there was a familiar golden cross shaped necklace with a big, violet crystal in the middle.

{break}

 _"_ _Nate, oh my god! I love it," she squealed, trapping me in her embrace, clutching the necklace I bought with two months' worth of paychecks._

 _'_ _I knew you'd love it," I reply into her neck, not wanting the moment to end._

 _{Break}_

Aside from splotches of blood on it, it resembled the same gift I gave her a couple of years prior.

"where…" the words get trapped in my throat, but it doesn't matter, the Krogan seems to have caught the meaning.

"What this trinket? Snagged this off a bitch who wouldn't stop screaming. Course I found a way to shut her up." Rough laughter spewed out of his large mouth.

.

.

"What's wrong pyjak, balls fall out your mouth, HehHeh, not like you're going to need em much- "my fist slammed square into his open mouth and right in to the back of his throat at an ungodly speed, sending him flying a good few feet back.

Have you ever gotten so pissed off that the only thought you had was to punch something? So mad that you can't think of anything other than getting back at whoever did you wrong. Your rage consuming you to the point were the only words you can put together are a mantra of 'kill kill kill.'

That's how I felt.

My head turns, a Batarian stands there, shocked.

I glow white and appear right in front of him. My left hand grips his throat as I lift him and choke slam him into the ground, the tile cracking upon impact.

A ping on my side alerted me that the others had recovered. The first few shots harmlessly bouncing off my barrier with only the last three breaking through and impacting my side, only for those to flatten upon the white aura that surrounds my body.

Not wasting another moment, I charge at my next victim, the aura carrying me across the room in milliseconds. After my fist liquefies his face, a red mist descends upon me as I turn towards my panicking victims

{break}

"Jesus Christ," a middle-aged man shouted from his seat at the rectangular desk in the briefing room of the **SSV Everest**. If Shepard was honest, she would be in the same shock had she not awoken from unconsciousness to find the man she'd shortly fought with kneeling in the middle of hundreds of corpses, clutching something so tightly that she swore she saw blood leak from the corner of his hand.

"Lt. Shepard, can you, once aging, confirm the validity of this video," the gruff voice from the head of the table said, his annoyance clear.

"Yes, Admiral Hacket," Shepard replied, her voice trembling slightly, addressing not only the most respected admiral in the Alliance, but a room full of the most distinguished officers in the Alliance.

"Who is this guy, and where the hell did he come from," the previous man continued on.

Shepard internally sighs. ' _They've been like this for hours.'_

Immediately following the incident at the hospital, the pirate forces gave an unconditional surrender to a confused Alliance fleet that had barreled from the relay ready for a fight. It wasn't until reinforcements that landed at the hospital reported back that things began to make since.

A single man managed to not only repel an opposing force that outnumbered him 100:1 but also forced their reinforcements back as well. Moving at unimaginable speeds and using strength and endurance that should be impossible for a human to have. A sight that was capable of flabbergasting anyone not present to see it firsthand.

 _'_ _But why am I needed here'_ She'd rather be out, helping pick up the pieces and finishing off the last pockets of invaders, not stuck in a conference room with a bunch confused Admirals. Albeit they needed someone that was present for the slaughter, but there were dozens of others present as well as herself.

Just as Hacket was about to rein in the others (whom were arguing over which black ops division Nate belonged to) a man dressed in a formal suit opened the door carrying a paper file in hand. Shepard squinted, trying to get a better view on the lapel that was on his suit.

SANI. Systems Alliance Naval Intelligence.

A collective, subconscious, shiver ran down each person's spine. The SANI are regarded as some of the most cold-blooded and calculating people in the Alliance.

"Afternoon Admirals," his voice was cool, emotionless even. "I've come to perhaps shed some light on our stranger there," he gestures to Nathan on the holo screen.

And does nothing after, merely stands with the folder, waiting for something to happen.

"Ahem, Lieutenant, perhaps you should go and find your friend, Nathan, if I remember you correctly," Admiral Hackett not so subtly hints.

"Of course, sir," she replies, snapping to attention and giving a salute, then walking out the door with a muttered "bloody spooks,"

{Break}

The wind tussles my hair as I stare at the rising sun. It's hard to believe that it's only been 24 hours since I landed here. Only 13 since all my friends died.

Tears race down my cheeks, continuing their unending cycle. I've been up on the roof of the hospital for god knows how long, just trying to forget, to move on from that horrible night. But no matter what, I can't stop seeing Mike's blood-soaked face, Georges terrified expression forever locked onto his face. And most frighteningly of all, my lack of knowledge of how Sophia died.

For some people, that may seem like a blessing, but for me, to not know how she died, what she thought or felt. That was the scariest thought of all.

I unclench my hand, and dangle the necklace in front my eyes, what little visible gold that's left, reflects the image of my face. My eyes bloodshot, hair greasy and some parts clumped together by dried blood.

The necklace itself was coated in dry blood, a reminder of the destruction I caused. Two-Hundred and Eighty-Six different sapient beings contributed to the crimson painting of the once pure golden necklace, the once bright violet eezo crystal was now a hideous dark purple that glimmered evilly.

The crunch of someone's feet against the pebbled roof barely registers, but registers nonetheless. Perhaps a stray pirate has come to avenge his comrades, or maybe Sophia wasn't dead and was coming to give me a giant hug. I turn to look, half dreading, half hoping.

Behind me, with the sun illuminating her form, stands Lieutenant Shepard. Her hair tussling in the wind as she gazes at the sun.

"Beautiful isn't it," she comes and sits next to me. I turn back to the scene in front. She's right, it would be beautiful, if not for the plumes of smoke billowing out from burning skyscrapers and exploded shit on the ground below.

"I'm afraid I don't see it,"

She apparently read my thoughts, for her semi grin transforms into a sad frown, images of the horrors from last night no doubt racing through her thoughts just as they were currently going through mine.

*Slap* I slap myself, putting everything into the back of my mind to deal with later.

"Ok, that helps a little. What can I do for you Shep?" I stand from my spot and offer her my hand.

"Just came to see if I could get you to come out of your gloom," She accepts my hand and stands with me, noticing the wince of pain from using my bad arm. It seems that I may have strained my body somewhat and reopened a lot of my wounds in the process, allowing me to, yet again, ruin a white T-Shirt.

"You need to see a doctor." Ah, a statement, no bush beating with her. Yet another trait she inherited.

"I will when there's less wounded," I lean against the AC unit, putting some of the pain of standing off my legs somewhat.

"At the rate of people coming in each minute, that's going to be awhile," she stands across, leaning against the AC unit there.

"Well then, the supplies need to go to them, I'm hardly worth the waste,"

"Waste! Everyone's calling you a hero,"

That surprises me.

"A hero? I didn't do anything special,"

"*Snort* Nothing special? You single handedly repelled a superior force and saved hundreds of lives. That seems pretty damn special to me,"

"Hm, I suppose, I'm pretty damn good,"

"Don't let it get to your head asshole," she says with a satisfied smirk.

The door to the roof slammed open as a cadre of people in alliance uniforms came through. And at the center, was man with graying hair and a frizzled face. Apparently, Shepard recognized him and snapped to attention immediately with me mimicking her, just to be safe.

"At ease you two," his voice was low and carried a certain tune to it, one that ordered respect and trust. The pins on his uniform mark him as someone I never expected to see. An Admiral.

"Lieutenant, is this the man that the colony owes its thanks to,"

"Yes admiral, this is Nathaniel Goren, sir,"

He nodded, his eyes scanning over me, briefly staring at Sophia's locket, still clutched in my hand, before his gaze locks with my eyes.

"Lieutenant, you are dismissed, go get some shut eye,"

"Aye sir," and with just the briefest of glances back, she's gone.

"Same goes for you Sargent, take your boys, and wait for me downstairs,"

"Sir, I highly advise against- "

"Noted, Sargent," The Admiral snapped back.

With an aggressive salute, he and his comrades turn back and storm down the stairs.

The admiral releases a sigh, and his form slouches somewhat.

"At ease son, you'll get arthritis standing like that," I drop my arm, and muscle reflex has me standing at the ready, feet spread and arms behind my back. "You know, when I heard the what that spook said about you, I thought it was all bullshit. But when I look into your eyes, I can see it," The admiral begins pacing back and forth, his arms behind his back and a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Nathaniel Goren, born August 23rd, 2050 to Maria and Jackson Goren, both of which died at an early stage of his life. His life was hell till a truancy officer named Daniel Cren took the kid under his wing and got his life back on track. After high school, Nathaniel joined the US armed forces and served with distinction till the age of 50 when he retired to live OTG in the Alaskan Tundra."

…shit

"Sir, I was born October 10th, 2152. Whilst my parents are both dead, they're named Jane and Craig Goren. I think you have me-"

"Colonel!" he stopped abruptly, shouting at me, causing me to flinch. "I would prefer that you act like the soldier you are, and not lie to my face,"

…oh shit.

"How," my question hangs in the air.

"To be honest, I started tuning the spook out after he started talking about all the mumbo jumbo that made you tick, and to be frank I don't give a damn," the admiral walked up to me, arms held behind his back. "What you did here, saving these people," he gestures to the burning cityscape, "is a damn fine job."

He reaches a hand out towards me. "So, allow me to be the first to thank you for your service,"

I grasp his hand and shake, mask in place to hide the confusion, pain, and the rest of the emotional cocktail threatening to spill over. _Calm, emotions hinder and get you killed._

"Thank you, admiral, and if you don't mind, I have a couple requests,"

"After what you did here, I'd be more than happy to help." I reach into my pocket, and pull out the silver locket Corporal Sanders gave me.

"Could you make sure this gets home to the right person,"

"Of course. And the second," I gaze out at the smokestacks, the sun now peeking through, illuminating the Alliance fighter jets as they fly through the ruins, escorting rescue shuttles to and fro.

"I'd like to get back into the thick of it sir. Preferably knee deep into Batarian territory." I look back to the Admiral, a wolfish grin awaits my gaze.

"I thought you'd never ask."

{break}

 **Ok so I know it's been a while, and in my defense, writers block is a bitch. And not to mention that in order to push this chapter out, I had to basically just Shoot through it and get to the end.**

 **ANYWAY I'm going to try and stay up to date with a Monthly update schedule, sorry it can't be anymore frequent but the Schools is a lil' more important.**

 **Oh and I need a name, any name, preferably an outlandish alien name. PM me and the best one goes into the story.**


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